


A Warm Welcome

by dragon_temeraire



Series: Sterek Plus [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Jackson Whittemore, Casual Sex, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Future Fic, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 08:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16636406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: There’s only one reason he’d be expected to care about the return of Jackson Whittemore.“What?” Stiles says defensively.“You want to get him in bed with us, don’t you?”





	A Warm Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my Sterek Plus series, this time featuring Jackson!

 

 

“Did you hear?” Stiles asks, sitting down across the table from Derek and completely ignoring the plate of pasta in front of him.

Which means it’s something big, because Stiles _loves_ Derek’s cooking.

“Jackson’s back in town!” he finishes excitedly.

Derek just gives him a long look. There’s only one reason he’d be expected to care about the return of Jackson Whittemore.

“What?” Stiles says defensively.

“You want to get him in bed with us, don’t you?”

“Obviously, yeah,” Stiles says, laughing. “He’s hot, he’s single, he’s into dudes, and he’s probably been in England long enough to develop a sexy accent—”

“Doubtful,” Derek cuts in.

“Well, I can live without the accent,” Stiles says easily.

“I _meant_ ,” Derek says pointedly, “that I don’t think he’ll be lonely enough to be swayed.” He pauses, thoughtful. “Well, he might go for you, actually. But I’m pretty sure he won’t be interested if I’m involved.”

“What, because of stuff that happened almost ten years ago?” Stiles huffs. “I think you’re underestimating your level of hotness. Which unfairly has only increased over the years. Besides, didn’t you apologize for all of that when he came to visit last March?”

“I did. But considering we were both high on that weird recreational wolfsbane at the time, I’m not sure it had an impact,” Derek says, shrugging.

“That stuff was _so potent_ , just watching you guys was hilarious,” Stiles says, smiling fondly.

Derek gives him the driest look possible. “All I’m trying to say is: it’s your game. Good luck.”

Stiles eyes him speculatively. “We’ll see about that. You mind if I invite him to dinner?”

“You’re welcome to,” Derek says, watching as Stiles _finally_ takes a bite of his pasta. “But I doubt he’ll come.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, smirking, “he’s definitely going to come.”

Derek rolls his eyes, and throws a piece of garlic bread at him.

 

*

 

Jackson shows up for dinner two days later. He’s still visibly self-assured, but less aggressively so; his cocky energy is more contained now.

“So, you guys are really together, huh?” he says, the moment he’s through the door. “I had to see it to believe it. I was shocked when Lydia told me. I guess oil and water figured out how to mix after all.”

Derek grabs the casserole, sets it firmly on the table. “And how have your relationships been lately?” he asks mildly, eyebrow raised.

“That’s fair,” Jackson says with a shrug, dropping the arrogant persona. “I’m just feeling a little out of my depth right now.”

“Why’s that?” Stiles asks, waving Jackson toward a chair.

“Because I don’t know why I’m here. Last I checked, neither of you actually like me.”

Derek opens his mouth to say _pretty sure that goes both ways_ , but of course Stiles gets his words out first.

“That’s easy enough to answer. You’re here because we want to sleep with you,” he says, and Jackson nearly falls out of his chair.

Derek slants a glance Stiles’ way. “Do you always have to do it like that? So abruptly?”

“Is this a joke?” Jackson says sharply, looking ready to get back up and walk out. “Did you just invite me here to flaunt—”

“Jackson, chill,” Stiles says in that steady, authoritative voice he sometimes brings out. “It’s not a joke. We sometimes like to bring a third person into bed with us, and have some fun together. That person could be you, if you’re interested.”

Derek just nods with Jackson looks his way, keeping his mouth shut, because nothing he says is going to improve what Stiles said. And despite his bluntness, Stiles is best at this part, so Derek lets him handle it.

“Lydia wasn’t kidding when she said she’d fucked both of you,” Jackson says, low and thoughtful, and Stiles grins.

“She told you about that, huh? It was quite a night.”

“So, you’re saying _I_ could fuck both of you?” Jackson asks.

Stiles glances Derek’s way, clearly amused. “Something like that,” he says mildly.

Jackson narrows his eyes. “It’s not gonna be, like, romantic or anything, right? Just sex?”

“Yep, just some fun between former antagonists,” Stiles says breezily, and Derek rolls his eyes.

Jackson snorts. “Pretty sure you _still_ antagonize me,” he says. “But I’m interested.”

Derek nods, trying to keep his poker face. He’s thrilled that this is working out, but Jackson’s ego doesn’t need to know that. “Be here on Saturday, then.”

“What time?” Jackson asks, like he’s about to add it to a planner.

Derek smirks. “Depends on how much of the day you want to spend with us.”

“Then I’ll be here at eight in the morning,” Jackson jokes.

“You’re more than welcome to join us for breakfast,” Derek says, not missing a beat.

“And for the post-breakfast shower sex,” Stiles says, eyeing Jackson speculatively. “I’m pretty sure you’d fit in there with us.”

Jackson chokes on nothing. “If that’s a genuine offer, I will definitely be here. That sounds like a great way to start my morning.”

“Totally genuine,” Stiles says with enthusiasm.

Considering he’s the reason they started having shower sex in the first place, Derek isn’t surprised at all.

Jackson nods and digs into his food like it’s no big deal, but Derek can smell the arousal rolling off of him, can see the pleased smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

Jackson wants this just as much as they do.

 

*

 

Jackson shows up a little late, but there’s still plenty of pancakes and eggs left over. He doesn’t get much bacon, though.

When they’re done eating, they all sit at the table for a while, talking idly. Jackson has missed a lot of stories and gossip over the years, and Stiles apparently feels the need to update him on _all_ of it. But the stories are making them laugh together, keeping the mood light, so he doesn’t really mind.

Eventually Stiles runs out of steam, and sends Derek several looks that he pointedly ignores. This was Stiles’ idea, so he’s running the show.

“Guess it’s time to get cleaned up,” Stiles says with false casualness, grabbing some dishes and heading for the sink.

Jackson hurries over with his own plate, leaning close to Stiles and saying softly, “ _We’re_ going to get cleaned up next, right?”

Derek grins, clearing up what’s left on the table.

“Sounds like a good idea, doesn’t it?” Stiles says, and glances over his shoulder at Derek.

Derek, already halfway out of the kitchen, catches the look and then keeps going. “I’ll get the hot water running,” he says, shrugging out of his shirt before he heads up the stairs. He can’t guarantee it, but he’s pretty sure Jackson is watches him do it.

By the time they join him in the bathroom, Derek’s already naked and leaning in to test the water temperature.

“Whoa,” Jackson says, putting a lot of feeling into that one word.

“I know, right?” Stiles says, and when Derek turns to look, they’re both staring at his ass.

He smirks and then steps into the spray, tipping his head back and letting the water cascade down his body. He hears a rustling noise, and when he peeks out the shower door, Stiles and Jackson seem to be competing on who can get undressed the fastest.

Derek’s just starting to soap himself, working downward toward his half-hard cock, when he gets some company. Jackson ends up sandwiched between him and Stiles—as he is sure Stiles intended—and Derek tilts his shoulders obligingly, so some of the water gets on them, too.

Though they all know this shower isn’t really about getting clean.

Stiles seems quite captivated by the sight of a wet, naked Jackson—something Derek can’t blame him for at all—but he’s also not _doing_ anything.

So Derek puts his hands on Jackson’s hips and gently tugs him backward, until his shoulders bump against Derek’s chest. Then he lets his hands wander, trailing them along Jackson’s stomach and chest, keeping his touch light and teasing.

Stiles finally catches on, and presses himself up against Jackson’s front, a smirk on his lips. Derek moves his hands to Stiles’ hips, uses his grip to pull him and Jackson tightly together. He dips his head to lick and bite at Jackson’s neck, watching as Stiles cups Jackson’s jaw and pulls him into a kiss.

Jackson moves a little then, clearly trying to take some control, but he can’t, not with Derek holding them all so close. That doesn’t seem to be dampening Jackson’s arousal any, so Derek doesn’t loosen grip, though he does cant his hips forward to grind his hard cock against Jackson’s ass.

Jackson makes a soft sound at that, breaking the kiss and panting against Stiles’ neck.

Stiles grins over Jackson’s shoulder at Derek, then leans to the side just enough to squirt body wash into his hands. Derek relaxes his hold on Stiles then, lets him step back and get a little space. Jackson groans when those slippery hands tease at his nipples before sliding down to his belly, hips arching up.

Derek nips at Jackson’s skin as Stiles continues to tease him, and knows it’s working when Jackson sags against him, letting Derek take most of his weight. Derek slides an arm around Jackson’s chest, and keeps his other hand bracing Jackson’s hip, ready for what’s next.

Stiles drops to his knees, and Jackson jolts when Stiles’ hand wraps around his cock. When Stiles’ mouth follows close behind, Derek can feel Jackson’s moan against his chest, and feels a flush of arousal at how responsive Jackson is.

Stiles sucks and works Jackson over with his mouth and hands, making Jackson quiver and shake against Derek. But the hard shower floor is no friend to human knees, so Stiles is back on his feet before long.

He grins at Derek over Jackson’s shoulder, and Derek can’t resist leaning in and kissing him. Jackson suddenly starts making tiny thrusting motions, and the wet sound of Stiles stroking him off reaches Derek’s ears. He slides his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, and Jackson gasps, body moving faster between them.

Stiles must have tightened his grip, Derek thinks smugly.

He kisses Stiles with as much intensity as he can, and starts actively rutting against Jackson as he does. And Stiles’ hand just keeps moving faster, until Jackson jerks and stiffens between them, gasping as he comes.

The scent of his release drives Derek on, and he lightly bites at Stiles’ bottom lip as he grinds forward and comes against Jackson’s ass.

Stiles kisses him again before pulling away, looking turned on but also like he’s scheming, and twists around to grab a bottle of shampoo.

When Stiles’ lathered fingers sink into Jackson’s hair, his knees give out for a moment, but Derek holds him up easily. Jackson makes likely-involuntary noises as Stiles massages his scalp, shivering against Derek and sending another pulse of pleasure through him.

Stiles is still hard and isn’t actively doing anything about it, so Derek figures he has something in mind.

He keeps ahold of Jackson as he shifts to the side, letting the water rinse him off. He looks content, almost sleepy, but Derek expects him to be wanting more soon.

He turns Jackson around, lets him nuzzle against his neck as Stiles washes his back and ass, gently scrubbing off Derek’s come. Jackson starts to smell of arousal again when Stiles’ hands linger there, kneading and teasing, but he can’t get hard yet.

Watching Jackson move eagerly against Stiles’ hands, Derek wonders if they’ll be able to get him to admit what he really wants.

They eventually stagger out of the shower and dry each other off, Stiles still hard and eyeing Jackson speculatively.

“So,” Jackson says, once they’ve made it into the bedroom. “Which of you wants to be fucked by me first? I can give you a good, hard pounding—”

He breaks off when Derek digs a hand into his hair, gripping enough to tilt his head back.

Jackson has always been all bluster, cocky attitude with nothing to back it up, and that’s never been more apparent than right now. Because Jackson doesn’t fight Derek’s hold _at all_ , doesn’t squirm or try to push him away. He doesn’t even say anything—he just _yields_ to Derek, his whole body loose and compliant, eyes sliding shut.

Derek leans in, drags his stubble _so lightly_ across Jackson’s neck that there’s nothing he can do but shiver. “Now,” he says quietly into Jackson’s ear. “Stiles would like to fuck _you_. I’m going to give you a moment to think about that, and decide if that’s something you want, too.”

Then he pulls his fingers free of Jackson’s hair and lays down on the bed, ready to watch Stiles in action.

Even after Derek lets go, Jackson just stays right where he is, trembling a little. Derek suspects he’s fighting with himself over what he actually wants, versus what he _pretends_ to want.

Stiles steps closer then, reaches out and fixes the hair Derek had rumpled before cradling Jackson’s face and kissing him. Jackson makes a soft sound and leans into it, his body pressing eagerly against Stiles’.

“Well,” Stiles says, nipping at Jackson’s bottom lip. “What’s it going to be?”

There’s an obvious hesitation, and then Jackson, looking suddenly defiant, says, “I want you to fuck me.”

Stiles grins, slow and hungry. “You got it.”

He nudges Jackson toward the bed, and arranges him with light touches until he’s lying on top of Derek, chest to chest. Jackson gives Derek a bemused smile, shifting a little to get comfortable.

“Derek, keep him distracted,” Stiles says, and Derek smirks. Distraction is his specialty.

He slides his hand into Jackson’s hair, but he’s gentle this time, stroking his fingers through the soft strands as he tips his chin up and kisses him. Jackson is enthusiastic, eagerly sliding his tongue into Derek’s mouth, hips automatically pressing down against Derek’s. He’s already starting to get hard again, and Derek is too, so he settles his hands on Jackson’s hips, encouraging the motion.

When Jackson suddenly jerks against him, breaking the kiss, Derek guesses Stiles has started opening him up.

“Easy there,” Stiles says. “I didn’t realize you were _that_ distracted.”

“He’s a good kisser,” Jackson says, a little defensive. Then he spreads his legs wider, and dives back into kissing Derek.

“Don’t I know it,” Stiles says, sounding amused.

Jackson keeps making soft little gasps against Derek’s lips as Stiles fingers him, and it’s hot, hearing those sounds, and feeling his cock twitch every time Stiles finds the right spot.

Eventually, Jackson breaks the kiss again, and buries his face against Derek’s neck and pants against his skin. Based on the slick, wet sounds he can hear, he guesses Stiles has three fingers in by now. And judging by the way Jackson keeps arching into Stiles’ hand, he’s just about ready.

The sound of a condom wrapper tells Derek he’s right.

He brings a hand up, curling it around the back of Jackson’s neck and lightly squeezing, and he feels Jackson relax against him.

Derek keeps up the steadying touches as he watches Stiles get ready, enjoying the aroused flush on Stiles’ cheeks.

“I’m going to fuck you just like this,” Stiles says, splaying a hand across Jackson’s lower back. Then he hesitates, likely realizing he can’t be as bossy as he usually is when he’s in bed with only Derek. “Unless you want it a different way.”

“I can take the weight,” Derek adds, catching Jackson’s eye. He’d seemed to enjoy being sandwiched between them in the shower, so Derek figures he’ll like it now, too.

“Yeah, okay,” Jackson says, and moves like he’s trying to wedge his way deeper into Derek’s arms.

Derek does his best to wrap him up and hold him tight as Stiles gets himself into position.

Jackson huffs a breath of warm air against Derek’s skin, then plants a line of kisses along his collarbone. “Go on, fuck me,” he says, before moving his mouth to Derek’s neck.

Derek watches over Jackson’s shoulder as Stiles looms over them, shifting his weight as he lines up. Stiles gives Derek a small smile, lightly touching the hand still curled around the back of Jackson’s neck before he moves.

Even if Derek hadn’t been watching Stiles’ face, he would have knowing the moment Stiles pushed inside by the sound it drags out of Jackson, and by the way he lifts and then pushes back down against him. He seems restless, uncertain, but once Stiles is all the way inside he settles, tension leaving his muscles.

Stiles starts at a slow, easy pace, taking his time with Jackson. Each thrust grinds Jackson’s cock against his, so Derek doesn’t mind a bit.

And Stiles keeps that pace—his stamina frequently impresses Derek—until Jackson makes a frustrated sound and suddenly shifts, moving his body faster. Derek’s not sure if Jackson’s trying to rub off on his abs, or trying to get more of Stiles’ cock, but either way, Derek is going to help.

He lifts his hips just as Stiles thrusts down, and Jackson makes a loud, appreciative noise at that. Derek grins and takes hold of Jackson’s ass cheeks, spreading him wide for Stiles, feeling the muscles clench as Jackson bucks between them.

But Derek hasn’t really been paying attention to his own arousal, so when Jackson bites down on his neck he jolts hard, his whole body pulsing as he abruptly orgasms.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles says, clearly aware of what happened. He redoubles his efforts, his thrusts becoming short and fast, and it makes Jackson shake against Derek.

Since he’s a werewolf, and he’s still being stimulated, Derek doesn’t soften. He’s more sensitive now, meaning Jackson’s body grinding against his is making his toes curl, but it also means the possibility of another orgasm. Soon.

It’s one of Stiles’ favorite parts of werewolf physiology.

Jackson seems like he’s close to his own orgasm, starting to rut aggressively against Derek, clearly seeking more sensation. When Derek glances over his shoulder, it looks like Stiles is losing his control, too.

Derek shifts enough to wedge his hand between himself and Jackson, and drags his thumb across the head of Jackson’s cock, pressing firmly against the underside before doing it again.

It’s not much, but it’s obviously enough, because Jackson keens and jerks forward against Derek’s hand as he comes, his release mixing with Derek’s.

“Fuck yes,” Stiles gasps out, rolling his hips desperately as his own orgasm hits.

When the aftershocks are over, he carefully slides off Jackson, flopping onto his back next to Derek.

Derek turns to grin at him, and he’s just curled his hand over Stiles’ when Jackson says, “Hey, you’re still hard.”

“It’s fine,” Derek says easily, stroking his free hand down Jackson’s back. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I—can I ride you?” Jackson asks in a rush.

“Hell yeah,” Stiles says dreamily, eyes half closed, and Derek snorts.

“If you really want to,” he says to Jackson. “Then feel free.”

He’s expecting Jackson to take it easy, go slow and tease him. Instead, Jackson sits up, grabs Derek’s cock, and sinks right down on it.

Derek makes a stuttering groan, hips lifting as he’s suddenly surrounded by Jackson’s heat.

Jackson gives him a cocky smile that’s actually genuine, then goes zero to sixty _real quick_ , muscles flexing as he rides Derek hard and fast. Derek is left grasping at Jackson’s thighs and trying not to buck up too hard.

His orgasm starts to burn through him, pooling low in his stomach and building pressure until it’s abruptly released, pulling Jackson down onto his cock as he comes inside him.

His cock is still throbbing as Jackson slumps back down, and Derek can’t help the way his hips twitch.

“You are officially invited back,” Stiles says, sleepily patting Jackson’s thigh. “That was magnificent.”

“Thanks,” Jackson says, huffing out a laugh against Derek’s neck. “I just might take you up on that.”

 

 *

 

“He really took to getting fucked, didn’t he?” Stiles says after they’d all cleaned up, and Jackson had gone home. “Rode you like a champ.”

“He certainly did,” Derek agrees.

“I’m glad we were able to expand his horizons,” Stiles says smugly, grinning.

“You make it sound very altruistic,” Derek says, amused. “When in reality you were fulfilling your high school dream of fucking him.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Stiles says cheerfully. He slides into Derek’s lap, trails his fingers down Derek’s cheek. “And since I’m not sure he’ll be back for a second round, we have an important question to answer.”

Derek smiles, because it’s the same question they ask themselves every time.

_Who’s next?_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
